First Shot
by JustAnotherRandomWriter
Summary: This is not a mess up like last time, i acidently uploaded the wrong document.  This one is a series of one shots about Faramir's childhood and how he becomes a Ranger.  The first short is about his first shot.
1. Chapter 1

"Careful now." Hissed the young man in the boy's ear. "Don't draw to fast, you'll lose your grip." He helped the boy knock the arrow and draw it back, adding his own strength to the lad's efforts.

"Lift it up. You won't hit anything but the ground with aim like that." Grimacing slightly at the weight of the bow and the tautness of the string, the boy lifted it.

"Good. Now, sight down the shaft at the target. Do you see it?" HE said softly. The boy closed one eye, his face creased with focus and intensity. He sighted down the shaft, aiming at the center of the target.

"Got it!" He said.

"Good." The man said. "Now, release it" And with that said, the man took a step back from the boy, letting go of his arm and the bow. For a moment, the boy almost dropped the bow, the sudden weight of the draw causing him to falter for a moment. Then he regained his target, and released the shaft.

There was a hiss as the shaft flew away from the bow. The boy lowered it, watching as the arrow struck the target, slightly off his mark. He turned to his mentor, who stood with his arms crossed. There was a satisfied grin on his face.

"Not bad." He said encouragingly, coming forward and clapping the boy on the back. "Well make a ranger out of you yet, Faramir." Farmir glowed with pride.

"Farmir!" The smile disappeared of the elder man's face, and he turned to face the approaching man. "What are you doing? Playing with toys again?"

"No father." Farmir replied, lowering the bow and his gaze as Denathor approached, his capes billowing as he strode toward them, Boromir in tow.

"And you, Ranger, what are you doing here? Filling my son's head with nonsense no doubt."

"My lord." Said the ranger stiffly, bowing his head slightly. "Your son asked to be instructed in the ways of the Rangers, and I decided he had the potenti-"

"You had no right to decided anything!" Snapped the Steward angrily. "Now, back to Osgiliath with you!" The ranger bowed his head again and whirled about. As he walked past Farmir, he rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Practice your aim." He said with a slight smile. Then he walked on. Farmir turned to watch him as he left, pulling up his hood and drawing the folds of his travel stained cloak about him.

"Back to your studies Farmir." Denathor snapped, turning and walking back in the direction he had come. "Your tutors are waiting. Come Boromir, I wish to show you something my son."

As his father walked away, Farmir's grip tightened about the long bow. The ranger had been the first person, aside from Boromir, who had treated him as a person. And, as usual, his Father had ruined what he had found joy in.

Farmir turned to look at the target, and where his first arrow stood, buried in it. It was then, that he swore to himself, he would become a Ranger of Ithillein.


	2. Chapter 2

Farmir hated how the chainmail felt against his clothes, pinching it and rubbing against his skin. Hastily, he threw his wooden sword up in an attempt at parrying Boromir's stroke. But his brother simply knocked his sword aside, placing the tip of his own at the younger's throat.

"Yours again." Sighed Farmir, bending down to pick up his sparring weapon.

"What's wrong little brother?" Asked Boromir when he heard the sound of defeat in Farmir's voice. It didn't fit there. "You haven't been the same since the fall of Osgiliath."

"It's nothing." Farmir shook his head, positioning himself in a ready stance, sword raised. "Come in, ill get you this time." Boromir sighed, then attacked. Farmir held his ground for a few moments, but it was soon apparent who the master swordsman was. This time, Farmir ended up on the ground, his sword lying useless beside him.

Reaching down, Boromir hauled his younger brother to his feet. Farmir turned to leave, not even bothering to pick up his weapon. But Boromir didn't let him go, holding him by the arm.

"Farmir," He said, in that strangely serious voice for one of his age. "I know you. Something is wrong. IS it really something that you can not tell your brother?"

"It's nothing!" Snapped Farmir, wrenching his arm free and stomping over to where the white tree stood. He sat down, pressing his back to the pale wood and closed his eyes, burying his face in his hands. Silently, the youngest son of Gondor sat there, until he heard the sound of another sitting beside him.

Boromir didn't bother asking for an explanation. He knew to Farmir to well. If it was really something he wanted to share, he would eventually talk about it, but he was willing to wait. The two sat in silence, looking out over the white city. The tower guard stood about them, not to close, but close enough that Farmir could see the eyes of one of them. Finally, the younger boy sighed.

"Boromir," He began. "Have you ever wondered, what it would be like if we weren't the Steward's sons?" Boromir shrugged.

"No, not really." He replied. "Have you?" Farmir nodded.

"Yes, I have..." Murmured Farmir softly. "And I don't think I would choose this life over it." Boromir looked at his brother in alarm.

"What are you talking about?" He exclaimed.

"We don't have any freedom in what we want to be!' Farmir said, grumbling and picking at the fraying edge of his sleeve.

"This is about the rangers again, isn't it?" Boromir demanded. Farmir didn't reply. "It its. When are you going to accept that you aren't going to be one?"

"Never." Snapped Farmir, getting to his feet. "And I will be one someday, watch me, ill be a captain of the Rangers!" Then he stormed off, pushing aside one of the tower guard as he stormed out of the courtyard.

"Farmir, wait!" Called Boromir, getting to his feet. He and his brother very rarely fought, and it was usually about trivial things, but he didn't understand what had gotten Farmir so riled up this time. He ran after his brother who had now run into the room their father worked in. Boromir entered through the doorway just as Farmir skidded to a stop. Denethor looked up at Farmir, a scolding on the tip of his tongue when Farmir blurted,

"Im going to be a ranger of ithilein father." He said. His words were coming in a rushed pace, as if he was afraid that his courage might falter and he wouldn't be able to finish. "And you won't keep me from it."


End file.
